The Book of Awesome Read Online Free PDF Page A

kicks into high gear at midnight when you officially start celebrating. Hopefully you don’t have to wear a tiara and a sash to keep those free shots coming.
    Yes, you know as well as I do that when that big day lands right on a Friday or Saturday, it opens up a world of celebration possibilities. Because now your birthday’s going on, your birthday’s going long , and your birthday’s going strong, fool.
    Awwwwwww, yeah.
    AWESOME!

Fixing electronics by smacking them
    My room was above the kitchen growing up.
    Late at night, lying in bed, I would listen to the creaks and cracks through the vents and floorboards. Oven burners wobbled and popped, distant thumps echoed from the furnace room , and the fridge cranked its whirring motor on and off whenever it pleased.
    It was always funny to me that during the day that fridge didn’t put up much of a fight. If it started clinking and whirring, you just pounded it with your fist and it would stop. One hard punch to the kidneys of the thing and it just sort of whimpered and stayed quiet.
    Like The Fonz kicking the jukebox on Happy Days , Grandpa smacking the TV during Wheel of Fortune , or a bandana-clad mom shaking the washer when the heavy towel load gets it rocking, there is something great about fixing electronics by smacking them.
    I mean, for once our instincts work . That doesn’t always happen in nature. Slap a bear on the snout when it’s picking through your trash and you might get a friendly mauling. Pull your brother’s hair when he steals your Xbox controller and you could find your toothbrush tossed in the toilet. But when the CD is skipping in the car, a friendly smack might do the trick, so how about that?
    Also, it kind of makes you feel handy . I don’t know about you, but I don’t know much about electronics. I have no understanding of how telephones work, how airplanes take off, or how radio signals go about their day. I have trouble putting the chain back on my bicycle, resetting the microwave clock , or starting the barbecue. You should see me out there, turning the gas on and off, tossing in matches and jumping away, half-expecting the whole thing to blow up.
    But I’m not bad at smacking things. I can smack a computer, I can smack a dishwasher, and I’ve got a lot of experience if your fridge seems to be giving you trouble. So listen, if you’re with me on this one, throw your hand up for a smacking high five and give cheers to your inner handyman.
    AWESOME!

Hitting a bunch of green lights in a row
    I used to drive home from my friend Mike’s basement apartment on this lonely two-lane road . It was always late at night and I’d roll down the windows so that the cold country-time air could help keep me awake. The air smelled like a cologne Beetlejuice might wear—a tangy combination of fresh manure, foggy dew, and squashed skunk .
    Yes, I’d say it was a nice, quiet way to end an evening, a relaxing and peaceful drive home on those late nights.
    But then they came.
    The big-box stores gobbled up that cheap farmer land and dropped in a concrete paradise full of parking lots, neon signs, and a never-ending series of traffic lights that completely clogged up the roads. The cold farm air was replaced by a new smell, a thick, heady mix of car exhaust and fried chicken.
    And, you know, I understand.
    Every massive parking lot really does need its own traffic light. I mean, without them, you’d be stuck trying to make a left turn out of Home Depot for half an hour. You buy those two-by-fours, you want to go build that deck, am I right? No really, I get it. I’ve been there too, and I get the lights.
    But let’s be honest: The resulting gauntlet is no good either.
    On that old drive home from Mike’s basement apartment they built up more than ten traffic lights in a row, each only about a couple hundred feet apart. There was traffic light after traffic light after traffic light, a sort of slow death march through the jungle of progress .
    And the